by: allison ryder
ink stained pages drip red,
the kind of signature only a
detective could decode.
should have incinerated them to ashes
but instead, they set a fire in the night.
lit up with confirmation
of every red flag, suspicion, and doubt.
they were proof of two lovers untrue,
with no way out-
but to have hands drip red,
a secret in the dark,
and two bodies left for dead.
love letters won’t protect the rights
of the two deepest involved.
grounds to be condemned.
shackles fastened to the bed posts,
placed them bound behind bars.
break from the cage-
ink drips blood, pages soaked in gasoline.
the anecdote is to turn the letters to ashes;
lights, flames, flashes
illuminate the sky with
a secret fastened in the dark.
left two grieving widows, under pretense,
and two closed caskets
with an equal offense.
one pair with knowledge,
knew they’d be made for dead.
other side in ignorance, with bullets in hand.
two bodies lay in the dirt,
as they bend to lay roses for the dead.
i know what you did in the dark
two skeletons stand before them.
i did it too.
two voices collide, rose from the dead
as two lives stare lifeless.
gasoline dripped down the boxes,
two victims lit the matches
incinerated them to ashes in the night.
they lay in a sinful bed in life;
should have burned their words to ashes
and left their secret in the dark of the night.